


Substitute

by tristinai



Series: Relationship: Gavin Reed - [REDACTED] [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, Impersonation, Jealousy, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, background Hannor, mutually using each other for sex, one-sided Convin, one-sided Reed900
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristinai/pseuds/tristinai
Summary: Gavin's attraction to Connor becomes obvious to Nines, who decides to get certain upgrades to give Gavin what he wants. And, hey, if the idiot's offering, what's Gavin got to lose?





	Substitute

**Author's Note:**

> Finally had a chance to sit down and write a proper Reed900 fic. But of course I went with angst so nobody's gonna be happy in this. Except maybe Hank and Connor. They are very much happy in the background. So at least there's that.
> 
> A note about the smut: Consent is given prior to Gavin being drunk but the actual sex happens while he is pretty wasted. If you take issue with this, I suggest not reading any further.

Gavin’s never been a morning person, stumbling in just before 8 on the weekdays and snapping miserably at anyone who so much as offers him a smile before he’s had his caffeine fix. Like most mornings, he’s slouched in front of his desk, hands idly going through his gaming apps on his phone, muttering curses under his breath as he fails repeatedly to make it through the current level. There’s a pile of paperwork on his desk but he’ll be damned if he so much as glances at it before he gets at least three cups of coffee in him.

 

A laugh cuts across the bullpen and Gavin glances out the corner of his eye, the warm sound making something hot tickle his insides. He tries to ignore the way Connor leans in a bit too comfortably into Hank’s personal space, brown eyes crinkling as he smiles widely. To most, it looks like two partners who have struck the kind of companionship that makes them an unstoppable force but Gavin’s not an idiot, has seen the gradual changes over the last year since Tin Can was assigned to the old fuck.

 

His grip on his phone tightens.

 

“Your coffee, detective.”

 

Gavin nearly jumps out of skin, snapping back loudly in his chair that it sends it back on its wheels a few paces. He glares up into the cold, gray eyes of his partner, snatching his coffee angrily almost immediately as it’s placed down on his desk.

 

“Fuck sakes, Nines. Gonna need to put a fucking bell on you,” he snaps.

 

He fumbles with the paper cup, spills a few drops on his faded jeans, before taking a sip. It’s hot—always too damn hot—and he burns the edge of his tongue but he’s too caffeine-starved to care.

 

“A bell would be most counter-productive and a hindrance in the field,” Nines answers, expression impassive. “It would also go against many of my programming protocols and could potentially endanger—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Save me the god damn speech,” Reed interrupts. “All those fancy upgrades and they couldn’t give you a personality. Fucking waste.”

 

In the few months Gavin’s been (VERY reluctantly) paired with the RK unit, he’s only ever seen Nines make one expression: indifference that on occasion would border on mild irritation, if one could detect the almost imperceptible twitching of one of his brows. It’s the look he’s pretty sure Nines is giving him right now.

 

“Detective Reed, you are more than aware that my limitations in expression were a calculated choice by Cyberlife, meant to ensure my aptitude in investigation without the complications that often occur once an android unit has become deviant.”

 

“Whatever you say, Robocop.”

 

He waves off his partner, eyes drawn down to the phone in his hand, only able to handle so much of the bland, monotone way in which RK900 lectures him on what seems like everything. It used to send a chill down his spine, that sense of the uncanny valley so stark in Nines’ rigid mannerisms but he’s since come to accept that he’s stuck with the inferior of the RK detective models and is no longer creeped out by the tall fucker.

 

Doesn’t mean he enjoys being talked down to any less.

 

“Good morning, Rk900. Detective Reed,” Connor says, regarding both of them with a smile, as he heads to the break room, Hank’s coffee mug in his hand.

 

Heat splashes across Gavin’s face and he drops his phone, only just remembering to mutter an insult that he has no doubt the android hears. He retrieves his phone but hits his head on the edge of his desk as he sits back up, grumbles ‘phuck!’ and rubs through the mess that is his morning bed head at the spot. It takes a few moments before that familiar creeping at the back of his neck has him darting his eyes up towards RK900, who is staring down at him.

 

“What?”

 

Nines’ cants his head. Gavin’s about to tell the pile of nuts’n’bolts off but there’s something strange about his partner’s behavior. Unlike the usual blasé look on his face, RK900’s gray eyes are swimming with something he can’t quite put his finger on. Before Gavin can piece anything together, the android is glancing in the direction Connor’s gone, the cool blue of his LED blinking to yellow, then red.

 

What. The. Fuck.

 

“Nines? The fuck is up with you?”

 

Nines snaps out of it, his LED returning to blue. Without so much as a look at his partner, he settles in the desk on the other side of Gavin’s.

 

“I believe you have paperwork to complete, Detective Reed.”

 

“...bite me,” Gavin answers, already feeling his foul mood return at the reminder of his procrastination.

 

He decides to drop it, not that he cares enough to begin with. Getting inside his partner’s head has never been high on his priority list.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week goes much the same: Gavin’s as belligerent as ever, Nines’ is his usual stick-in-the-mud self, trying, and often failing miserably, to get Gavin to do anything. Friday comes around and he’s called to a crime scene just before 7 am, crankier than usual because why the fuck’s anyone up at this ungodly hour and where the fuck in his hulking tin can shadow so he can hurl abuse at it and bitch about everything under the sun?

 

“RK900 returned to Cyberlife last night for a routine check up,” Connor says. “Don’t worry, detective. He should be back by Monday.”

 

Connor’s brown eyes look warm even in the mundane hues of poor lighting that illuminate the crime scene and fuck, why is Gavin so weak for a pair of nice eyes? The android touches his shoulder reassuringly and Gavin can already feel a blush spreading to the tips of his ears so he moodily shrugs off the hand.

 

“Why the fuck would I be worried about that plastic prick?” he says, lips curled in a sneer. “Just pissed that I’ve still got all that paperwork to do. Bet that asshole fucked off so he could leave me with all the work.”

 

In truth, Gavin would have a lot less work if he had spent most of the week actually doing it instead of messing around on his phone and sneaking glances at Connor every now and then. Not that he’d ever own up to it, even if Nines’ called him out on it.

 

“Detective, I highly doubt RK900 schedules his maintenance when it most inconveniences you.”

 

Gavin’s about to make some snide remark because he can see the hint of a frown on Connor’s face and fuck, does he love getting under the android’s skin. But Anderson’s voice cuts across the room before he has a chance to make his partner’s predecessor upset.

 

“Reed, stop being a prick and get your ass over here!”

 

Gavin would cuss out Anderson but the lieutenant’s tone leaves little room for argument and he’s not about to poke the lion. The last thing he needs is another disciplinary and Anderson’s as notorious for not being a morning person as Reed is.

 

They spend another hour looking over the scene: homicide, confirmed red ice user, some addict who was probably short one too many times and whose dealer had finally had enough of his shit. Times like this, Gavin’s glad he’s been off that shit for years now before his life spiraled out of control.

 

Once back at the station, he makes for the break room, his craving for coffee the perfect excuse to dick around and avoid the mountain of work at his desk. But he can only fuck around with Tina and Chris for so long before even Fowler’s snapping at him to get his ass in gear and finish his reports.

 

Grumbling, he drops into his seat and glares at the neatly arranged files on his desk.

 

Wait…

 

He almost spills his coffee and wouldn’t that be the perfect conclusion to this fucking morning, soiling the stack of completed reports and being forced to rewrite them? He remembers barely making it halfway through one of these the day before, after much berating from his prick of a partner, before giving up and deciding to procrastinate for one more day.

 

He’s got to be seeing things. Nines is too by-the-books to do this shit for him, has even said on numerous occasions that it would be a violation of the conduct expected of him if he favored Gavin over everyone else and completed his work for him.

 

“Looks like RK900 didn’t just ‘fuck off’ and leave you with all the work,” Connor says, sitting on the edge of Gavin’s desk and smirking cheekily down at the detective.

 

Gavin’s torn between the urge to punch that smirk off the android’s face or devour it with his own lips so he settles for glowering.

 

“He’s trying to get along with you,” Connor continues. And fuck, if he wasn’t so hot, Gavin would be more annoyed at the reprimand. “You should be nicer to him.”

 

Gavin laughs. He laughs, quite crudely and coldly, taking a particular pleasure in the frustrated look on Connor’s face.

 

“I don’t need to be playing ‘buddy cop’ with no android. That kumbaya shit might work on Anderson but it’s not gonna work on me.”

 

And he snatches up the reports to bring to Fowler because he’d rather be boiled alive than acknowledge that maybe—and that was a strong _maybe—_ RK900 isn’t so bad, if he’s willing to keep doing shit for Gavin’s approval.  


* * *

 

Friday isn’t the only incident where Gavin is subject to Nines’ sudden acts of kindness. Monday morning rolls around and it’s business as usual: Gavin arrives as late as possible without actually being late, Anderson and Connor are being their insufferable selves in the corner of the bullpen, and he has only moments to swallow the bitter pill of jealousy as he sinks down in his chair, reaching for the coffee already waiting for him.

 

He drinks greedily from the cup, the coffee warm enough to heat his insides after coming in from the autumn chill but not so hot that it burns his tongue. He’s already halfway through his drink before he’s eyeing the android seated at the desk in front of him and it dawns on him.

 

The coffee...is perfect. Not too hot, not too sweet. Bitter enough that he can taste the roasted beans, as best as the shitty stuff they have at the station can taste.

 

It’s never perfect.

 

“Is the temperature more agreeable?” Nines asked, in that awkwardly formal way that only he can get away with.

 

Gavin grunts, looking away from his partner’s eyes, which look...somehow more bright than they usually do.

 

“I’ve determined that if I arrive at the station ten minutes earlier and prepare your coffee prior to engaging in my duties, it will be at optimal temperature by the time you arrive,” Nines’ continues.

 

Is the automaton really giving him an explanation of his new daily routine?

 

Silence follows and it’s not until it stretches uncomfortably that Gavin realizes the fucking thing is waiting for some sort of acknowledgment or approval.

 

“It’s alright,” Gavin concedes, with a shrug.

 

The corner of Nines’ lips twitches, moving about as much as it can with the android’s limitations.

 

Is...is he trying to smile?

 

Gavin ignores his partner and the unsettling feeling that’s beginning to fester inside of him in favor of looking over case files on his computer.

 

The next few days follow a similar pattern, with Nines’ behavior putting Gavin on edge. The android has become more attentive, makes an effort to socialize more with his partner and even tries to emote, which often results in sad attempts at facial expressions that weird Gavin out. More than once, Gavin’s come back from a smoke break to find his coffee replaced or one of his favorite vending machine snacks on his desk. It’s the same kind of shit Connor usually does for Anderson and Gavin has just enough sense to indulge his partner’s sudden fixation with him while avoiding putting all the pieces together and thinking about what it all means.

 

By Friday, though, he can only ignore it for so long. Nines’ is off in the evidence room so it gives Gavin the perfect out he needs and he slips down the hall towards the interrogation rooms. Anderson’s busy questioning a potential perp, which leaves Connor on the other side, scrutinizing the scene before him through the window.

 

“Hey, Tin Can. Got a minute?”

 

Connor perks his head in question and Gavin immediately flushes. Though ever the professional, the android radiates a warmth that Gavin wants desperately to set aflame, hands itching to reach out and touch some part of the android, nip along the line of that jaw and see how much it would take to make him come apart.

 

It’s pride that holds him back, with a healthy dose of self-preservation. Gavin knows he has no chance and it’s not what he came here for.

 

“Is something the matter, detective?” Connor asks.

 

Gavin swallows, pushes down the arousal threatening to expose him, and scratches awkwardly at his nose. He can only keep the android’s gaze for so long before he’s drowning in liquid mocha so he settles for staring down at the floor between them.

 

Does anyone ever fucking mop this place?

 

“You notice anything different ‘bout Nines?” he starts. When he’s met with silence, he adds, “Fucker’s been acting weirder since he got back.”

 

“You are referring to his efforts to become closer to you,” Connor says, once he realizes what Gavin means.

 

“Yeah. The fuck’s up with that?”

 

A pause.

 

Gavin lifts his head and notices Connor’s LED flickering different shades of yellow.

 

“Is it wrong for RK900 to want to be your friend, Gavin?” He relishes the way his name sounds coming off Connor’s tongue and his mind, so easily distracted, thinks of all the ways he could get get the android to say it again. “He—as much as any of us—wishes to work in harmony with our human coworkers and part of that process involves creating amicable relationships with those we work closest with.”

 

Gavin buries his wandering thoughts, frowning at the answer he’s given. He knows a deflection when he hears it and before he can stop himself, he’s barging into Connor’s personal space and jabbing an accusing finger at the android’s chest.

 

“Don’t feed me this ‘friendship’ bullshit. You know that asshole better than anyone and you know what I’m getting at,” he snaps.

 

Connor places a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and he swears he can feel the heat from synthetic flesh burning through the layers of his coat and shirt. It does little to calm his ire, the fear that rips inside his chest as he’s forcing himself to face what he’s been ignoring all week.

 

“What _is_ it you’re getting at, detective?”

 

He sees the challenge in Connor’s eyes, daring him to ask.

 

But how the hell does anyone ask _hey, does your emotionally stunted doppelganger have a weird robo-boner for me?_

 

Uttering a string of curses, he finally asks, “Is the prick into me or not?”

 

Connor regards Gavin carefully, a small tilt of his head not unlike what Gavin’s seen Nines do. His LED blinks yellow twice before settling back to a calm blue and he gives a very practiced roll of his shoulders, a gesture that had RK900 tried to mimic, would look awkwardly rigid.

 

“That’s not something I would know. Perhaps you should ask RK900 yourself.”

 

“You mean all those times you’ve done that stupid android hand thing and you’re telling me you know fuck all what goes on in your creepy twin’s head?”

 

Connor bristles visibly. “What we exchange via interfacing is, quite frankly, none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, detective, my partner and I are in the process of extracting a confession.”

 

He attempts to step back but Gavin’s patience had left the moment he stepped in the room and he’s grabbing the android roughly, getting right in Connor’s face, on the tips of his toes and scowling. “Don’t you try and worm your way out of this, you cocky bast—!”

 

Before he can blink, Gavin’s being spun and shoved against the window, Connor’s weight pressing into him. He struggles but the android only twists his arm further, pain shooting up Gavin’s arm and his pulse racing. He bites back a moan as he feels his cock spring to attention and it isn’t helped by the lips that tickle the edge of his ear.

 

“Unless you want a repeat of the last time you got on my bad side, I suggest you walk away now,” Connor says, the jovial tone he’s using sounding sinister in a way that chills Gavin’s blood. “We’ve made so much progress. It would be a shame to let that poor attitude of yours get in the way of our _friendship._ ”

 

He releases Gavin, who stumbles a bit but keeps his head down, not wanting to see the smug smirk he knows is on the plastic’s face. He’s rock hard and he has no doubt the android can tell but he’s shoving his hands into his jeans and scrambling for the door, metaphorical tail between his legs.

 

“Reed?”

 

“Outta my way, Anderson,” Reed all but growls, shoulder checking the lieutenant as he leaves.

 

Once in the hallway, he hears Anderson say, “What the hell did he do this time?” but he doesn’t stick around, heading straight to the bathroom. It takes only a few minutes for him to rub one out, still heady on the adrenaline of _what_ Connor’s capable of when the android is pushed too far. It’s as he’s uttering the android’s name beneath his breath, threads of thick cum spilling over his fingers, that Gavin hears the door to the men’s bathroom slam close, along with the telltale click of retreating dress shoes.

 

_Fuck!_

 

Spent and humiliated, he drops his sweaty face to the stall door, panting heavily. He’ll deal with the fallout of whatever coworker wants to rib him and call him out on the shit he gets up to in the bathroom later.

 

Unfortunately, later comes far sooner than he expects as Gavin hastily cleans himself up and returns to his desk. One look at the android sitting across from him and Gavin doesn’t need the angry red blinking of Nines’ LED to confirm that the android _knows._

 

_Fuck fuck fuck FUCK_

 

He’s about to say something, jumping from embarrassment to outrage because what in the fuck kind of business does a fucking robot have in a restroom but it seems Nines is just as willing to avoid the topic.

 

“Fowler wishes to speak with us,” RK900 says, standing up abruptly.

 

Gavin groans.

 

_Will this day fucking end already?_

 

* * *

 

 

It’s well after eight when he gets home, shucking off his coat and dropping onto his couch. The old furniture squeaks, worn cushions pushing in to accommodate the added weight, and he’s reminded that at some point, he’ll have to replace it. A spring is digging into his hip and he grimaces as he shifts but his discomfort provides only a momentary distraction from the shit that went down today.

 

Fuck. His. Life.

 

He thought RK900 being his fucking shadow all week and going out of his way to make Gavin’s life easier was weird? That shit doesn’t hold a candle to the glacial stares and silent rage Gavin had to endure from the android for the last 4 hours of his shift. For someone unable to glare or scowl, Nines had looked ready to murder someone.

 

How the fuck is Gavin supposed to get anything done with a jealous murder-bot for a partner?

 

“I need a fucking beer.”

 

He gets up and heads to the fridge, grateful that he at least has two days, murder-bot free, until he has to face Nines again.

 

Popping off the cap, he takes a long drag of his drink. His phone buzzes and he pulls it out, squinting at the message notification. It’s from some number he doesn’t have saved to his contacts.

 

[20:43]

_Detective Reed. This is Connor. I hope you don’t mind; I asked Hank for your number._

 

Gavin stares. He stares and stares at the message, minutes floating by as a fluttering feeling fills his chest. His thumb idles over the screen and it takes even longer for him to think of a response, nerves making him tap his fingers against the bottle of beer.

 

What could the Tin Can possibly want?

 

[20:49]

_S’up?_

 

As soon as he sends it, he wants to bash his head on the counter. What the hell was he thinking?

 

[20:50]

_I feel embarrassed about my behavior earlier and want to make it up to you. Would you be willing to meet with me for drinks? My treat._

 

And that’s how Gavin ends up at Jimmy’s bar less than 15 minutes later, sitting himself at one of the booths towards the back, hunched over and drumming his fingers on the grimy surface of the table. It’s been some years since he’s been here, an old haunt of his and Anderson’s, back when he was just a rookie and Anderson was still living downtown, saving up to buy a house in the ‘burbs. It had been walking distance for both of them, a halfway point, but after Anderson fell off the wagon, Gavin couldn’t stomach coming back here.

 

He orders two shots as he waits, downing them immediately and shoving the glasses back towards the bartender before he can leave. He’s nervous as fuck and needs the liquid courage. It’s the only time he’s ever socialized with Connor outside the DPD and while he’s not dumb enough to entertain the _what ifs_ , it doesn’t stop him from succumbing to nerves no different than when he’s out on a first date.

 

He slicks a hand through his hair, forgetting he had put in a bit of gel to try and tame it. Fuck! He should have shaved. Or at least changed. There’s nothing he can do about the ever present bags under his eyes from his poor sleeping habits but he could have at least cleaned himself up a bit.

 

“Detective Reed.”

 

Gavin jumps in his seat, hitting his knee against the metal bar beneath the table. Color fills his cheeks and he only idly glances up at the android before he’s darting his eyes down at the table and offering a mumbled, “Hey.”

 

He’s such a fucking mess. Why did he accept Connor’s offer to begin with?

 

Connor sits across from him and Gavin tries to ignore the stinging sensation in his leg.

 

“Is everything alright, detective?”

 

_No, everything’s not fucking alright, dipshit,_ he’s tempted to snap because being angry is always easier than owning up to his feelings and the way he’s always unraveling around Connor is a bit too much for even his own head to wrap around. That it doesn’t matter what and how he feels for a machine—a god damn _machine—_ has been fucking with his head for the better part of the last few months and there’s nothing worse than knowing he’s fallen hard for someone who ‘s very happily with one of his least favorite people.

 

His head is swimming with everything he can’t say—and failing to find something he _can—_ that it takes longer for him to detect the flatness in which the question was delivered.

 

He glances up and is lost in the warm tides of dark brown, pulled into a soft gaze that has him buzzing off more than the alcohol he’s consumed. It makes him forget the question he’s been asked and he wets his suddenly dry lips, shoves his hands into his coat pockets.

 

“Uh—shit, what was it you said?”

 

_Smooth, Reed._

 

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes but it’s hard to tell otherwise, Connor’s face betraying nothing but a calm apathy that’s both unsettling but also somehow familiar.

 

“I was asking if everything is alright.”

 

It’s as if Connor wants to convey empathy but is stuck on one tone, his voice straining within its limitations.

 

A sinking feeling begins settling low in the pit of Gavin’s stomach.

 

He stares at the android sitting across from him and he has no doubt that if anyone besides Anderson or himself was in his position, they would believe they were looking at Connor. A tuft of hair has fallen in front of the android’s warm, brown eyes, his gray RK800 coat and ensemble no different than what Gavin has seen the handsome fucker wear every day at work. Seated this close from each other, he can make out the familiar spatter of moles he’s memorized on Connor’s face, that pale skin and those soft lips an insidious temptation that has desire curling low in Gavin’s abdomen.

 

But that’s about where the similarities end. It’s the little details that capture Gavin’s attention: the squareness of ‘Connor’s’ jaw, less sharp than when he had fantasized about tracing his lips along it earlier; the way the blazer’s fabric pulls snugly at the android’s shoulders, stretched and only barely fitting; how even seated, ‘Connor’ seems taller than usual compared to Reed and even given his limited knowledge of android physiology, Gavin has serious doubts androids could experience growth spurts.

 

The revelation hits him like a bucket of ice water.

 

“What the actual _PH_ _U_ _CK,_ Nines!” he hisses, angrily.

 

He begins to panic.

 

This is not happening. This cannot be FUCKING happening.

 

He did not just get catfished by his stalker android partner.

 

“You are mistaken. My name’s Connor, serial #313 248 317-51, sent 11 months ago to the DPD to assist in the deviancy cases,” the android answers and the more he talks, the more Gavin’s convinced it’s fucking Nines. “Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink tonight, Detective Reed.”

 

But Gavin knows what he’s seeing, knows _who_ he’s hearing. He could be drunk off his fucking ass and no amount of cosmetic alterations will ever have him believe this is Connor sitting across from him.

 

He grabs the lapels of ‘Connor’s’ coat and tries to yank the android forward but nearly ends up sprawled across the table top, his nose jabbing against fake Connor’s. He’s beyond pissed at this point, has had enough of this shit and feels spittle dribble off his lips as he sneers, “I don’t know what your fucking deal is, Nines, but you better cut this shit out now. The fuck’s wrong with you?”

 

‘Connor’s LED spins—yellow—red—back to blue—before the android answers, “Detective Reed...I’m giving you exactly what it is you want.”

 

A hand settles calmly on one of his wrists and Gavin’s surprised at how soft Nines’ grip is, how those long, pale fingers caress gently at his pulse point. It sends a trill across his skin and he’s so touch-starved he momentarily forgets it’s not Connor’s brown eyes he’s glaring into.

 

“Play along and perhaps this evening will end satisfactorily for both of us,” Nines says, the monotonous tone of his voice cutting through the illusion.

 

Gavin sits back abruptly, yanking his wrist free. He wants to tell Nines to shove it but he’s left rubbing at the phantom sensation of Nines’ grip on him. And fuck if he doesn’t want more, even if it’s with the creeper dressed as his doppelganger.

 

“This is fucked up,” he mumbles, refusing to look at ‘Connor’.

 

He knows what he should say, knows what he would if he believed Nines capable of human emotion. He’s not sure what sort of wires are loose in the thing’s head that it’s convinced itself— _himself_ , and isn’t that fucking sad that Gavin has to assign any person hood to _it,_ all because of some fucking law that passed—that he’s in love with Gavin, desires his human partner in the way real people desire other people. But Gavin smells opportunity and already feels the wheels turning in his head.

 

And the truth is, he’s not about to lose any fucking sleep if he takes the dipshit up on his offer.

 

His lips part, tongue suddenly dry as Nines gazes hopefully at him.

 

He can’t believe he’s fucking doing this.

 

“What’re you having?”

 

Gavin startles but Nines’ is already ordering for him. “Two whiskeys.”

 

His LED blinks as he completes the transaction and the bartender is off to get the drinks.

 

Gavin stares suspiciously at his partner. “How’d you know what I was drinking?”

 

“I detected it in your saliva,” the android answers.

 

One of those sinfully long fingers drags across the android’s lower lip, taking with it drops of spittle from Gavin’s recent outburst. A pink tongue dips out to swipe the rest and though Nines says nothing, Gavin can tell the android is processing the data he’s collected. It makes him hot all over as he pictures other places the android can sample.

 

“That shit’s creepy, you know,” he says instead, voice hoarse, slumping back into the booth.

 

“Your spiking heart rate would indicate you feel otherwise.”

 

Gavin’s surprise must show on his face because he swears the android is attempting to smirk at him.

 

When the drinks arrive, Gavin’s tossing them back so quickly, he feels whiskey dribbling down the corner of his lip. He’s savoring the smooth burn of it down his throat when he feels a thumb collect the escaped drops, pressing up against his lips until he’s pulling it into the wet heat of his mouth and sucking off the rest of his drink. He stares into Connor’s—Nines’--eyes, color splashing across his cheeks. Nines’ is staring at him with something that only makes the hunger inside Gavin grow into a demanding ache and he’s not sure if it’s his growing inebriation or how easy it is to pretend he’s staring at Connor, but Gavin’s nearly at that point where he’s willing to do anything to feel more of the android’s touch.

 

Nines must sense Gavin’s growing complacency because his thumb retreats to caress the edge of his stubbly jawline, leaning further over the table to trail his gaze over his partner’s face.

 

“If we do this,” Gavin says, his voice shaky, “you don’t breathe a fucking word of this to anyone. Not even your asshole twin. Last thing I need is everyone thinking I’m an android fucker.”

 

“Discretion is mutually beneficial,” Nines replies. He adds, “RK800 would be most displeased if he learns what became of the spare clothing he left at my apartment.”

 

Gavin chuckles at that. Given his history with Nines’ predecessor, he has little doubt Connor would be offended and pissed off to find Nines’ playing the old twin switch to get laid.

 

It makes him curious, however, the more he stares into Nines’ brown eyes.

 

“Hey, what’s up with your eyes?”

 

He tries to indicate to them but his depth perception’s a bit off and he ends up poking Nines’ in the cheek.

 

Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have had that many shots…

 

Nines grasps his hand, almost shyly lacing their fingers together. Gavin’s just buzzed enough that he allows it, deciding the warm touch is more wanted than his disdain for PDA.

 

“I had a few upgrades during my maintenance last weekend,” he says. He blinks slowly and when his eyes open again, they’ve returned to the cool gray Gavin’s more familiar with. “A retractable lens that alters the color of the iris.”

 

“So, like, color contacts for androids?”

 

The corner of Nines’ lips tug and he blinks again, eyes returning to dark brown. “Something like that.”

 

Before he can even think, Gavin asks, “What other upgrades did you get? Laser eyes or some shit like that?”

 

There’s something almost mischievous in his lack of expression.

 

“If you would allow me to accompany you to your place,” Nines says, squeezing Gavin’s hand, “I could show you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Gavin closes the door, he’s pushed roughly against it, arms wrapping around the android’s neck and yanking him down so Gavin can kiss him. Lips find his at an awkward angle, pressed against the corner of his mouth, and he swears he can feel the edge of the android’s tongue dart out to lick at his stubble before Nines’ makes any effort to kiss him properly. When their lips do finally meet, Gavin is sloppily coaxing them open, eager to slide against that hot tongue he’s seen sampling all sorts of disgusting shit at crime scenes.

 

Fuck. But neither that, nor Nines’ obvious lack of knowledge when it comes to intimacy, can deter Gavin, whose muffled moans echo at the back of his throat the more he sucks on Nines’ tongue.

 

When he breaks away, he’s panting, head tilted back against the door and neck left exposed. There’s only a minute pause, an almost unnoticeable hesitation, before he feels Nines’ lips trail along his skin, nipping and mouthing experimentally.

 

“F-fuck,” he whimpers, threading his hands in soft, dark brown locks.

 

Nines’ lifts his head, those strands falling out of their styled coif, and he looks so much like Connor in the way his dark eyes almost seem to widen, questioning. Gavin can’t help himself, can’t get enough, as he pulls Connor—Nines, fucking _Nines!_ \--in for another kiss, greedily soaking in the enthusiastic need he’s met with. His hips shift forwards, hooking a leg behind one of the RK unit’s own, pulling the android against him to find some friction, and he whimpers into the android’s mouth when he feels a large bulge press into his hip.

 

“A cock,” he pants against Nines’ lips, rutting against him. “Y-you got a fucking cock?”

 

“...will that be a problem, detective?”

 

Gavin chuckles breathlessly, brushing aside Nines’ hair, fingers toying with the stray strands. “Fuck, no.”

 

He pushes Nines backwards towards the couch, the android allowing himself to be led. Gavin has a bit of a hard time coordinating and nearly falls into Nines’ steadying grip on his shoulders and belatedly, he thinks he should not have downed another three shots before taking the android up on his invitation. The room’s spinning a bit and while Gavin doesn’t think himself a lightweight, he’s pretty sure those seven shots and that beer he’s had in the last hour are doing him no favors.

 

“Detective...are you sure you’re able to continue?” the android asks as Gavin pushes at his shoulders and he seats himself on the couch.

 

Straddling him, the detective’s answering laugh makes him feel even more lightheaded and he’s curling his fingers in those soft locks again, tilting back his companion’s face so he can stare down into those intoxicating dark eyes. “You always this much of a buzzkill, Tin Can?”

 

Gavin’s leaning down and kissing along that jawline, reveling at how smooth the synthetic skin feels against his mouth. But there’s a growing, persistent tugging at his shoulders and eventually, he’s forced to sit back and glare at Connor for stopping him.

 

“The fuck, Connor? I thought you wanted this,” he mutters, feeling slightly confused.

 

Connor gazes at him impassively, though his eyes convey trepidation. “Your blood alcohol level is high enough to suggest you are drunk, detective.”

 

Gavin’s vision is swimming and he’s trying to focus on Connor’s face. He feels he’s forgetting something...something important. The yellow of Connor’s LED is distracting and he puts his hand over it, dropping his forehead to rest it against Connor’s. He takes a second to collect himself, cradling Connor’s face with his other hand, and the way the android melts into his touch—welcomes it—helps Gavin see through the haze of his own delusion.

 

“I consented to this shit before you bought me all those shots,” Gavin says, tries to enunciate each word but has a feeling some of it comes out slurred, “We doing this or not, Nines?”

 

Red blinks against his palm.

 

Gavin shifts his hips, grinding down hard against the bulge tenting Nines’ pants. An odd, static sound tumbles off Nines’ lips and it’s perhaps the closest Robocop has ever come to vocalizing emotion, it has Gavin doing it again, rewarded with the android’s equivalent of a moan.

 

“Fuck, babe, want you so bad,” Gavin groans, rutting against Nines, peppering his face with kisses. “Want your cock inside of me.”

 

He’s tugging at the gray coat, the conflict of what he’s seeing and what he thought he knew confusing him. The ramrod posture even as the RK unit is letting him pull off his coat is all _Nines_ but those eyes that look up at him are _Connor’s._ Connor or Nines? He can’t even remember why it fucking matters as he’s blathering nonsensically and palming the android’s hard on.

 

“Gavin...”

 

His name breaks off into static as Gavin falls to his knees in front of the couch, hands tracing the inside of the android’s thighs. As he’s reaching for the zipper, the android tries to stop his hands but Gavin’s waving them off.

 

“Let me test out your new hardware, dipshit,” he complains and the android lets his cock be tugged free, sounds like a broken audio player echoing in the room as Gavin grasps the shaft.

 

“Fuck...”

 

His hand has a hard time wrapping around the thickness that sits heavy in his palm, shiny beads of blue-white pre-cum leaking off the blue-tinged head. He feels his mouth water in anticipation as his palm glides up the length—all fucking nine and some inches—and Jesus fucking Christ, leave it to those perverted fucks at Cyberlife to equip their creations with porn-sized upgrades. His thumb circles the head, slicking it with the strange blue-tinted cum and his curiosity is getting the better of him before he can help himself, leaning forward to kiss the tip of the cock he’s holding.

 

It’s sinful distortion that has him pulling the bulbous head between his lips, suckling and swallowing at the beads of cum. It’s far better than any cock he’s tasted before—not that he found the taste of cum to be all that bad—but it also lacked in the familiar saltiness his twenty odd years of experience as a gay man has become accustomed to.

 

“De-detective...p-please…!”

 

He’s never heard an android beg before and it’s a sound he can definitely get used to. His fist pumps the base of Connor—Nines—whoever the fuck’s—shaft, mouth bobbing halfway down, generous globs of saliva dripping from his lips to dribble down the length. The lecherous slapping of a cock against his palm had Gavin moaning loudly around the thick mouthful and when he glances up, he’s met with dark pools of mocha, pupils blown with a thrilling kind of lust he feels straight down in his own cock.

 

He reluctantly pulls his mouth off the android’s cock, spit webbing his lips to the head of it and he’s using his free hand to begin undoing his jeans while still jacking off his companion. He’s not sure about robo-stamina or how many rounds these synthetic fuckers have in them but he’s not about to let Tin Can cum before he’s had that cock in his ass.

 

“Gonna need some of that,” he says, swiping away the saliva from the lips before pointing drunkenly to the table stand beside the couch. Beside the stack of bills and empty bag of chips is a half used bottle of lube and yeah, so maybe it’s been so fucking long that Gavin spends more time jacking off on his old couch than going out and getting his dick sucked but with a job that eats up most of his life, can anyone really blame him?

 

He stands up, only just managing to steady himself, and yanks down his jeans and boxers, kicking them off to the side. As the android stares up questioningly, holding the bottle of lubricant, Gavin sinks down onto his lap, bringing their cocks together. The slide of skin-on-skin is almost too much for him and fuck, it’s been way too fucking long. He only just keeps himself from reaching between them to help them both reach sweet oblivion, face dropping to the crook of his partner’s neck, moan mumbled into pale skin.

 

“F-fuck—I just...gimme a minute,” he mumbles.

 

The hand that cards through his hair is so gentle that Gavin almost wants to cry. In fact, he feels an odd sensation prickling behind his closed eyes and he shudders softly, content to just spend a moment in the android’s embrace.

 

When he lifts his head, he feels a hand cradle his chin, tilting his face so they can look deeply into each other’s eyes. It’s so intimate that he finds his gaze darting away, not wanting Connor to see just how vulnerable he’s made the irascible detective.

 

“Gavin?”

 

Monotone.

 

Right. Nines.

 

Gavin shakes off the weird feeling that came over him, throwing off his jacket and shirt. It’s gotta be the heat—fucking October heatwaves because that’s totally a fucking thing in Detroit, right???--and takes the lube from Nines, pouring a generous amount into his hand. He reaches down, slides his palm up Nines’ erection a few times, and chuckles lewdly at the broken sound the android makes.

 

“Yeah, that’s it, babe. Gonna have you fucking begging for it before I’m done with you.”

 

His own cock is begging for attention but Gavin ignores it if favor of circling his slick fingers against his own hole, his impatience leaving little time for teasing before he’s pressing one inside. A moan rips from his throat and he’s pushing it in and out, soon adding another and fucking into himself on top of Nines’ lap. When he glances over at the android, he sees the rapt attention in those eyes and smirks.

 

“You like watching me fuck myself, you pervy fuck?”

 

Nines opens his mouth to say something but only the crackle of static comes out so he just nods.

 

And fuck if that isn’t hot, getting his prick of a partner so worked up, he can’t even fucking speak.

 

“Gonna ride you so fucking hard, babe,” Gavin promises, moaning as he adds another finger. “Gonna make it so good for you.”

 

Gavin knows he talks too much during sex, been told that enough times, often with the added complaint that it’s ‘kind of annoying’. He’s usually a bit self conscious when he gets this chatty but Nines’ seems to be eating it all right up and it’s only encouraging him.

 

He positions himself above Nines’ cock, not even bothering with condoms. Robocop seems completely out of his depth so Gavin doubts the socially stunted fuck’s tried out his upgrade with anyone and he’s about ninety percent sure that thirium-cum’s no worse for the body than the human stuff. With the tip of it pressed to his entrance, Gavin braces himself gripping Nines’ shoulders before slowly sinking down.

 

The burn is felt immediately because— _phuck!_ —monster cocks are not something he’s had a lot of experience with and Nines’ is probably thick enough that Gavin’s not sure he’ll be walking right for the next few days. His fingers can only prep him so much and he’s gritting back a half-pained, half-pleased sound until he feels Nines’ balls hitting his ass. He grunts, leans his sweaty forehead to rest against Nines’, adjusting around the thick length of him.

 

“You had to get one this fucking huge?” he mumbles, though it’s more of a half-hearted attempt to rib his coworker than critique his choice.

 

“Your pornographic searches at work indicate a preference for androids with large genitalia.”

 

Gavin blanches at that and sits back to glare at the android. However, the movement causes the cock in his ass to piston him at a sharp angle and he’s left whimpering, struggling to steady his voice. “Y-you looked at my searches?”

 

He moves his hips up, dragging up Nines’ cock, before sinking back down. Nines’ voice breaks with distortion as he answers, “You left some tabs open when I completed your reports.”

 

Oh. Shit. Guess he kind of had that one coming for dicking around all of last week instead of getting his shit done.

 

“Fucking weirdo,” Gavin mutters, though it’s said more with drunken affection than any real malice.

 

As he begins to move in the android’s lap, the sensation of being ripped apart is replaced with a heady trill that begins to build in his core. The slap of balls hitting his ass each time he’s filled to the brim, has Gavin throwing his head back and moaning loudly, skin slicking with sweat, hands gripping at any part of the android he can touch. He never quite undressed him, pants still bunched around his thighs, dress shirt only half unbuttoned, but Gavin’s grasping behind his neck, tugging at those soft locks that he’s dreamed of running his hands through, staring down through a half-lidded gaze into chocolate eyes that have haunted most of his fapping sessions.

 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he gasps, feeling drool dribble off his lips.

 

The android’s pulling him in for a kiss as he fucks up into him, a tongue catching the drops of saliva before seeking entry between his lips. Gavin allows him to suckle on his tongue, his skin bursting with heat everywhere he feels a synthetic palm slide over. He’s moving without abandon, choked cries broken between hasty kisses, sweat and maybe even drunken tears soaking his cheeks. His hoarse voice blends with the echoing static and as he feels he’s reaching the edge, about to topple headfirst into mind-numbing euphoria, he’s looking heatedly into dark warmth and in his inebriated haze, feels an indescribable elation at finally having that arrogant prick inside of him.

 

“C-Connor,” he moans, voice so wrecked, it cracks. “C-Connor—oh fuck—Con--”

 

He cries as he whites out, thick streams of cum spurting out of his cock. There’s colors bursting behind his closed eyes and he’s falling against a hard chest, his whole body shaking around the cock still buried inside of him. A broken groan is muffled into the soft polyester of the dress shirt when Gavin feels something hot shoot into him and it’s only as he’s shuddering and shaking that he becomes aware of the hips beneath him stilling.

 

He remains like that, bone-weary, body feeling like it’s gone through the wringer, head spinning. Gentle hands are stroking his back, holding him close, and if Gavin hadn’t staked his entire rep on his pride, he thinks he wouldn’t mind falling asleep in Connor’s embrace.

 

But the discomfort is too had to ignore and Gavin knows he won’t be keeping the contents of his stomach in if he’s hunched over like this. Slowly, he sits back, grimacing as he lifts his hips off Connor’s cock and swallows the bile crawling up his throat.

 

“Gavin, are you feeling okay?”

 

The lack of inflection leaves Gavin staring wide-eyed at the android, a gross, sick sense of dread making the humiliation of what he’s just done heat his face. It’s that moment of sobriety after a bad bender, the rock-bottom lows from the red ice highs of his past life, that make him want to curl into himself and inflict his anger into his own flesh.

 

What the fuck has he done?

 

Nines tries to reach for Gavin’s face but Gavin’s slapping the hand away without any vigor, drained of all but the self disgust that’s crawling beneath his flesh.

 

“It’s getting late, Nines,” he mumbles, extracting himself from Nines’ lap. He stumbles and catches himself on the coffee table, shying away from Nines’ attempt to assist him. “You should...probably leave.”

 

He almost face plants but the android manages to catch him this time, his hands warm on Gavin’s skin. Browns eyes are gone in a blink, replaced by icy gray, and never has Gavin felt colder than when staring at this emotionless replica that wears the same face as the man he desires.

 

“You seem in need of assistance. If you would let me—”

 

“Door’s over there,” Gavin says, tone cooler than the Detroit River in the dredges of winter.

 

He sees something akin to hurt—or, at least, as much as the impassive fuck can mimic pain—appear in Nines’ eyes.

 

And fuck, if that almost makes Gavin _believe_ he hurt the thing’s feelings.

 

Unable to stomach it, Gavin storms over to his bathroom, all but tripping into it, and throwing the door closed. He slumps against it, his body shaking, and without RK900’s curious gaze picking him apart, emotions better left buried begin to seep through his cracks. It starts as a prickling behind his closed eyes and he inhales heavily to stave against the onslaught he knows is coming but then he feels the tears drip off his lashes.

 

_Fuck_

 

He swipes at his eyes but it only makes it worse, a dry sob rippling in his chest. He’s silent in his shame and has no doubt his idiot partner is probably putting two and two together but he’d rather be fucked by Anderson than let that—that _thing_ see him like this.

 

It’s not until some time later, when he hears his front door close, that he’s falling to his knees.

 

At least he can always blame it on the alcohol.


End file.
